


Heathens

by ADreamer67



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidentally Nebula-centric whoop, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Developing Friendships, Gamora (Marvel) Has Issues, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Nebula (Marvel) Has Issues, Nebula (Marvel) Needs a Hug, POV Gamora (Marvel), POV Nebula (Marvel), Poisoning, Post-Thor (2011), Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamer67/pseuds/ADreamer67
Summary: all my friends are heathens take it slowwait for them to ask you who you knowplease dont make any sudden movesyou dont know the half of the abuse"My advice? Give in as fast as possible. It's far less painful."





	Heathens

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Heathens by twenty-one pilots and well... suddenly I had a strong desire to write a fic about Gamora and Nebula introducing Loki to the world of the children of Thanos, so....... here's a thing.

_i tried to warn you just to stay away_

Gamora was the first one to officially meet the new prisoner. He was found floating in space. Alive. That automatically made him interesting. Pity.

She was checking his restraints when she felt eyes on her. Looking up, she met dull, gray eyes, watching her with a detached, partial interest. After a silent moment, they fluttered shut. Gamora continued inspecting the restraints.

"Are..." he coughed, breath rasping in his emaciated chest. "Are you going to kill me?" he choked out after a minute, licking, dry, cracking lips.

"If you're lucky," Gamora told him bluntly. "You'll be wishing for it, if you aren't."

A dull, slightly hysterical laugh. "You think I don't already?" He coughed, body jerking with the force, slamming against his restraints. He blinked at them, apparently not having noticed them yet. "How do you think I ended up in the void." The question was more of a statement than anything. He clearly didn't expect an answer, or even want one. A shuddering breath gusted past his lips. Watching him, Gamora felt a sudden, not entirely foreign surge of pity.

"My advice," she said quietly, straightening up from where she had bent over the table he was shackled onto, "Give in to whatever they want, as fast as possible. It's far less painful."

The raven-haired man laughed again. "Surrender is not in my nature."

"It will be," Gamora told him, pressing the button on the wall to call the torturers, before leaving. Hopefully, if she got far enough away fast enough, she wouldn't hear the screams.

_we dont deal with outsiders very well_

Nebula was used to torture—giving and receiving. The screams didn't bother her anymore. The more screams, the better, sometimes. It went faster, then. The newest prisoner, though, she'd heard he was hardy. Enough that regular Chitauri torturers hadn't been deemed enough. From now on, the children of Thanos would take turns working on him. He would bend, eventually. Soon, Nebula thought. She was good at what she did. They all were. Unlike Gamora, it didn't bother her. Unlike the others—the Black Order, she didn't enjoy it, either. She was neutral, most of the time. Sometimes, after a hard day, working on the prisoners could be cathartic. _See?_ she would want to scream, _see how it feels to be me? See how it feels to be crushed and hopeless and warped and taken into pieces and put back together again? _Cathartic.

Nebula slid open the door to the cell, her eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light in the cold, barren cell. The prisoner was slumped against the wall, wrists and ankles shackled together. He was an interesting one, this prisoner. Her father had deemed him _useful_. The knowledge taken from his mind had shown the location of the Tesseract, something her father had been looking for for many years. And he had a way to travel far distances, without the Tesseract. He could get there, open a portal, and let the Chitauri through. Terra would fall, then Asgard, then all the rest. Another step toward the glorious plan. The purpose. Her purpose. Soon, his purpose. Here, everyone had a purpose. If you didn't, you were dead. Sometimes, Nebula wished she didn't have a purpose. But that was disloyal, and she could never be disloyal. She would never disobey. Ever.

"Are you here for a reason, or just to stare?" the prisoner asked in a hoarse, crackling voice. Nebula straightened up. She had gotten distracted. That wouldn't do.

"Up," she ordered, "come."

"Little hard to stand without use of my hands," he quipped, voice growing stronger. Growling, she stalked in, grabbed him by the elbow, and yanked him to his feet. Without a word, she dragged him behind her, out of the cell and down the hall. Nebula was starting to feel like today could be one of the days where torture was more enjoyable.

When she was finished, there was a lot of blood, and her ears were still ringing. And something more—Nebula was impressed. That had never happened before. But this prisoner, he was becoming interesting, in more ways than one. He was interesting because he was useful, yes, but he was interesting in other ways too. He held off on screaming for quite some time, longer than Nebula had ever seen in all her life when pitted against one of Thanos' children. And he didn't beg. He locked his jaw at first, and then he screamed, but he never begged. Never broke. He had enough left in him to glare when she pressed the button to release the cuffs and let him off the table. Impressive, in Nebula's opinion. There was a strength to him, to this man who had been in space and survived. He would be a good asset, indeed.

"It could be worse," Nebula said abruptly, watching him try to sit up. He waved off her attempt to assist with a glare. "You could be like me."

For the first time, he stopped. Glassy, exhausted eyes landed on her, dissecting every inch of her form. Emotion after emotion flitted across his face, settling into apathy. "And yet you serve him," he said quietly, wincing as he spoke. "Even as he takes you apart?"

"Father makes me stronger!" she snarled, lunging to her feet. "Now get up!"

He eyed her the whole way to the throne room, something curious in his gaze. It made Nebula want to smack him, or maybe get her knives back out. He didn't know her at all. He couldn't judge her, he was her prisoner. Someday, he would be her brother. But not today. Not until he was a part of the purpose.

On the walk back to his cell, after he refused to serve, Nebula decided to ask him. "Why don't you give in?"

"Because," he said, his voice rough, "Midgard doesn't deserve it. Because of my family. Because I don't want to prove them right."

"Prove who right?" she couldn't help but ask. "About what?"

As the door to his cell slid open, he locked eyes with her, shadows lurking in his eyes, so deep she almost jumped back. The things in his eyes—for the first time, Nebula wondered how he had ended up floating through space. Slowly, a smile crept across his face, dark and sinister and so, so broken. For a moment, Nebula thought she might be staring at a reflection of herself. His eyes dragged her in, twisted and grasping things hiding in their depths, seeping through the cracks. Nebula got the feeling that if she looked long enough, she might never surface from the black. "Everyone who ever said I was a monster," he whispered, lips peeling back from his teeth in a smile that could be mistaken for a scream. Nebula looked away, unnerved by the sheer intensity of his words, his conviction. Maybe, Nebula considered, he wouldn't break so fast after all. When she shut the door to the cell, she left the handcuffs off. Just because.

_yeah, trust issues, not to mention_

The next time Gamora saw the prisoner, it had been almost a month. She'd nearly forgotten him. Nearly, but not quite. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, watching him watch her.

He laughed. "No one has apologized to me yet. Just get on with it."

Something in his voice made her press on. "Still."

It was two hours before the first scream.

Instead of just shutting the door, Gamora hesitated. After a deep breath, she hit the cell lights, and walked inside, the door slipping shut behind her with a quiet _whoosh_.

"What," the prisoner asked, his voice flat.

"What's your name?" she felt compelled to ask.

For a minute, he was silent. Watching, wary. He tried to pull away, shrink into the shadows, but there were none. Not with bright, cutting lights reflecting off of every smooth steel wall. "Loki," he said eventually.

"Loki," she repeated. "Why were you out there?"

Loki laughed, sounding like something dark was trying to crawl out of his throat. "Didn't I tell you?"

Gamora shrugged. "It's been a few months."

"I realized," he started after another pause, "that I could never be enough. That I am doomed to fail. That I will always, and ever, be alone."

"You could be enough here," she offered, "if you just say yes."

Something behind his eyes slammed shut. When he spoke again, his voice was toneless. "Get out."

"I mean, you could be one of us. I think you'd fit in here. You could like it. You could help us, willingly. Because you will help us, no matter what." Gamora told him.

His hand shot out, and he grabbed her by the arm with a surprisingly strong grip for someone in his position. She tensed, and Loki let go.

"I could," he agreed, mildly. "I see that." His eyes darkened again. "That's why I refuse."

Gamora felt a surge of respect for this man sitting beside her, broken into so many pieces and yet still with will enough to defy Thanos.

After another long silence, Loki sighed, all the fight seemingly draining out of him, and he slumped from where he had been sitting, perfectly upright. "There is a monster inside of me," he whispered, horror and macabre satisfaction coloring his voice in equal measures. When he met her gaze, his eyes were shining. "And once it gets out, I doubt anyone will ever be able to stop it."

"No one has ever defied Thanos as long as you have," Gamora told him. For a moment, pride glinted in his eyes. It faded.

"You tell me I will give in. I know. But," and here he looked away, and the hunch of his shoulders told her his mind was far, far away, from the sticky creeping things that lurked in Sanctuary, "I will never go down without a fight."

"I know," she told him, almost kindly. "I know."

"Leave," he told her. "I want to sleep."

Gamora rose, and with one last look at the man who was broken beyond repair and yet held strength beyond comprehension, she left. Inside, something foreign stirred. It took her a moment to recognize it. Rebellion. Gamora crushed it, and walked faster. Enough time had been wasted.

_how did i get here, sitting next to you_

When she couldn't see anything in the dark of the prison cell, Nebula hit the lights. Brightness flared, exposing every inch of the cell, flaying everything with light and laying it all bare. In the corner furthest from the door, the prisoner was curled in a ball, shacked up and shivering. Hesitantly, Nebula entered the cell, kneeling in front of the prisoner. His face was buried in his knees, scraggly curls spilling down over his legs, arms curled tight around his own form. "Hey," Nebula ordered, "get up." A quiet moan was her only answer. Impatient, Nebula grabbed the prisoner by the hair and dragged his face upward. Glazed mint green eyes, almost swallowed up by the pupils, focused somewhere over her shoulder. Nebula took in the unfocused eyes, flushed cheeks, and sweat dripping down from the prisoners hairline, and cursed.

"Tho'" he slurred, squirming slightly, "that you?"

Disgusted, Nebula let his head drop down. One of her siblings had been careless with poison, and left her a delirious prisoner who might be too out of it to even hear any questions, or give a coherent answer. Torture would be useless, today. He hadn't been healing as fast as normal, either, Nebula noticed. Normally, he was fine by the next morning, but there were whip marks on his arms that still looked quite raw, and blood had been pooling on the floor.

Out of nowhere, the prisoner lurched sideways, and vomited.

Nebula stood up, backing away rather rapidly. She had no desire to be thrown up upon. "Can you walk?" she asked, testing. Clearly, he didn't hear her, sagging back against the wall and whining pitifully. Scoffing, Nebula left.

About a week later, Nebula entered the cell again. The prisoner was awake, this time, lifting up shackled hands to block out the light. "Already?" he rasped, dragging himself to his feet. Nebula waited with crossed arms as he limped to the door of the cell. He stepped into the brightened corridor, following Nebula down the halls without protest. She studied him as they walked, taking in washed-out skin and hair even more wild than usual. The poison had run its' course, she determined, but he hadn't quite recovered yet. Based on the dark, deliberate bruises littering his face and arms, and probably everywhere else, Nebula guessed it had been Proxima or Corvus yesterday. They both preferred blunt force trauma—causing injuries inside, rather than out. She and Gamora favored knives. Ebony was probably the one who had poisoned him—he was always trying new, creative techniques from across the universe, and some of his own invention.

Neither had said a word by the time they reached the designated room. Nebula opened the door, and they began.

Yet another refusal later, Nebula brought the prisoner back to his cell. "Don't fight it," Nebula advised him, starting to shut the door.

"Why do you help him?" the prisoner asked, unexpectedly. Nebula paused.

"There is nothing else," she informed him, quietly. He nodded.

"I know that feeling well."

"Then why not join us?" she asked, truly curious. He was so _stubborn_, even after three months. It was unheard of. He was becoming infamous among the inhabitants of Sanctuary. The one who wouldn't give.

"There is nothing else," he parroted back, eyes hooded in the dim light, casting ebony shadows over his face and reducing him to nothing but a shade lurking in the darkness. "If I give up, if I cede to you, I will be everything everyone ever said I was. Everything I ever swore not to be. Maybe it is pointless. Maybe, in the end, I will cave. Sometimes it seems so. But I will fight, because once I fall... I will never rise back up again."

"You delay the inevitable," Nebula said, hand hovering over the button to slide the door back in place.

"Yes. I do."

Something in his eyes when he said it hurt, deeply. Nebula shut the door.

_rooms of people that they loved one day, docked away_

Gamora started stopping by Loki's cell on days she wasn't supposed to torture him. She didn't know why, but she did. In the mornings, before his sessions, always. Always disappeared before any of her siblings showed up.

"Do you miss your brother?" she asked him, sitting cross-legging across from him.

"Every second of every minute," he responded, softly, near reverence in his tone.

Every day she asked him to give up—she didn't want to hurt him anymore. Every day, he refused. He refused because he didn't want to prove those who hated him right. He refused because he didn't want to hurt those who had done nothing to deserve it. He refused because he didn't want to hurt his brother. He refused because he was afraid of what he might do, who he might be, if he didn't.

Sometimes, she asked about his family. Sometimes, he answered. Gamora admired Loki, she could admit that. The loyalty he held for his brother—it made her jealous. Secretly, she wished he could be her brother, too. Willingly. Working together, side by side, for the same goal. The way he talked about himself and his brother, Thor.

"Thor would defend Midgard, if I attacked," Loki said one day. "He would. He would fight me. Maybe kill me. I don't—I don't want to know what he would do. If... if it came down to between me, and the Midg—the Terrans."

"If any of my siblings were told to kill me, they would. Without hesitation," Gamora responded, unsure what else to say.

Loki snorted. "Thor would hesitate, quite a bit. But... in the end. In the end, Thor will always be the hero. No matter what. And in the end, the hero always kills the villain."

"But you wouldn't be the villain. You'd be helping us save the universe, Loki," Gamora said, earnestly.

"Gamora, Gamora, Gamora," Loki shook his head, "you know you don't really believe that. I see it in you. You don't swallow those lies. You've seen too much for that."

Abruptly, Gamora stood. "I should go. Someone will come soon."

"You see it," Loki said quietly. "You do."

Gamora didn't come back unless it was for their sessions for two weeks. When she did return, they pretended nothing had ever happened, but it always lurked in the back of her mind. A taste of something forbidden, something golden and poisonous and so, so, so sweet. _He'll be one of us soon_, she reassured herself. _It's been six months. He'll cave_.

_welcome to the room of people_

The day the prisoner was walked into the throne room, where they had all been gathered, Nebula knew before she was told that he was their brother now. She welcomed it. He belonged here, with them. She could see it. He would help them, and they would win, and then... and then, maybe, they could be family.

Loki, his name was. Her new brother. "Brother," she told him, "welcome." He smiled. Nebula pretended she couldn't see the cracks in his mask, pretended she couldn't see the blue cast to his eyes. He was family, now. He was family, and he would never, ever leave them. She would make sure of it.

Nebula was the first to greet him as brother, Gamora the last. There was something heartbroken in her sister when she did. Nebula ignored it.

Loki was a good sparring partner, and good at listening. She liked to listen to him rant about his old family, about how they had betrayed him. Cast him out. He told her his brother had hurled him in the void, to be rid of him.

"You have us now," Nebula told Loki. "You don't need them anymore. Brother."

He called her sister, and she smiled.

Sometimes, Nebula saw a haunted look in Gamora's eyes when she talked to him.

Nebula would help him go over his plan for Terra, help him survey his ranks. He would sit with her in silence after she got a new part. Sometimes he won a fight. Sometimes she did. Always, they helped each other up. _Brother, brother, brother,_ Nebula's heart sang.

The day Loki left for Terra, he and Nebula sparred together, and he won. "It's good luck," Nebula said. "You'll win, on Terra."

He tilted his head. "You believe in luck?"

"No," she admitted. "But you'll win, brother. And maybe you can come with me on my next mission, when you get back? When Terra is won?"

He gave her one of his knives before he left.

"You know this isn't real," Gamora told Nebula, gently, once Loki had gone. "Can't you see it, in his eyes? He didn't give up. The mind stone changed him."

Nebula saw. She saw the shadows in his face, the shadows he wore like a shroud. The darkness that enveloped him. The brokeness he hid behind smirks and wit. All the little, glimmering, shards of glass. "He's our brother." Nebula said.

_it looks like you might be one of us_

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da? Hopefully this is good I feel like it was kinda weak on the feels and man... I wanted to delve into Loki's psyche more but well I made an artistic choice to not use his pov and I stuck with it. Here it is anyway. Maybe I'll come back and re-write it with better wording and descriptions and stuffs but... welp.


End file.
